


In Warsong Gulch

by the_sunthorn (ceeainthereforthat), tori_siikanen (ceeainthereforthat)



Series: The Wishful Thoughts of Quinntus Everflight [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, M/M, Original Player Character, Paladin, Priest, Semipublic Sex, Wargames, magic use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceeainthereforthat/pseuds/the_sunthorn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceeainthereforthat/pseuds/tori_siikanen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS IS NOT IN THE CANON OF QUINN AND HAVOC.</p><p>This never actually happened. Think of it instead, as a narrative of Quinn fantasizing about his husband in the days before they were married. Originally it was my contribution for a fic exchange between me and Havoc's player.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Warsong Gulch

Quinn and Havoc didn't come to Warsong Gulch often, now that their contract to the Warsong Outriders was fulfilled. But the battlemaster didn't need them for Arathi Basin, and so Quinntus scanned the field, Havoc beside him, as they waited for the offense to come back with the Silverwing Hold flag.

They'd been in the opposing base, but healers are the first targets for a smart defense, and so they'd been in front of the Spirit of resurrection before long. But it had worked, and a druid held out long enough to escape Silverwing and raced toward them even now, beacon bright by the twinned glow of their maces, weapons that marked them throughout the fighting forces of the Horde as battle-healers.

Quinntus squinted at the racing druid and groaned. He was hurt, hurt bad, and panicked enough to stay in cat form to try outrunning the force of rogues and mages sprinting behind him, the last defenders falling behind. But there was good news - the druid _was_ running toward them.

Quinntus set his feet apart and cast the shield that would buy them a little time, the shield that would absorb a few seconds worth of knives as Havoc cast enough light to heal - a few seconds for a word of renewal to trickle health back into their flag runner. They had a chance, if the druid would trust them, and hold, and wait for the rest of the force to catch up.

Twinned flashes of light landed on the druid - Havoc's, gifting him with a measure of health, and a beam of moonfire, meant to leech it away. Quinntus stopped the healing spell he'd been casting, spoke a word of dispelling--

And shouted "NO!" as the druid raced past them, still panicked, leaving them amidst the gnomes and humans who gave chase--rogues and warriors who saw healers and immediately moved to kill--

And Quinntus kept screaming, a howl that pierced their minds and made them scatter in temporary terror. Havoc threw a bomb that flashed, driving off the night elf in cat form, forcing it to flee. A Horde mage blinked in, cast an explosion of arcane energy, and took off after the fleeing flag carrier.

Havoc gave chase. Quinntus wheeled to follow with a hunter and a rogue, still running despite their wounds, and the Alliance, freed of their terror, formed up to follow.

Not even a word of shielding could keep their blazing hate off Quinn's back, but he didn't care. He ran, said words of renewal to grace each of their comrades, and kept an eye on the fleeing, dying druid who was too far for him to reach with his protection, watched as he ran straight into a night elf who came out of stealth and blasted him with moonfire.

Damn! Two druids on their side, and that one close enough to make the kill. Havoc was further ahead, and Quinntus saw him veer off to defend their comrade, leaving Quinntus among the scrum of the wounded who raced to catch up and help.

But that druid had to go, and Quinntus could do it, for he wasn't really a battle healer.

Not exactly.

A word and a gesture stopped the druid's tongue. Another word made pain dominate her every sensation. Another word tangled with the word of pain, so every drop of health that drained from her trickled back to his comrades...

But still, not enough. Quinntus halted and prayed for healing, and that he would have enough time to cast it before the druid could speak again. Three seconds. All he needed, three seconds...

He got two and a half before she struck again, rooting Havoc to the ground and blasting the druid (who'd decided not to run, now) with moonfire.

 _Don't they know how to do ANYTHING else?_ Quinntus thought, and released the spell, healing everyone around him for a measure of the life they needed to keep fighting, saw flashes out of the corner of his eyes marking who it had hit--

Their druid was just out of range. Quinntus swore, and dispelled as Havoc raced toward him, hands weaving the sign of healing even as the druid fell and the flag landed in the earth--

And Havoc grabbed it, already racing for the roof of their hold.

That druid still had to go. The half-dead mage knew it, and blinked again, rooting the druid to the ground with ice. Quinntus dropped a shield on himself and concentrated, blasting the druid's mind, and then reached out with a rope of shadow that flayed her with so much pain it was a struggle to run... until a fire blast finished her off.

Quinntus didn't even glance at her corpse as he ran after Havoc. Didn't move against the pursuing Alliance scrambling into their base to steal the Horde flag. He trusted his comrades to defend as far as they could. His job was to defend the flag carrier. He had to protect Havoc, who usually protected him.

He shielded and renewed the paladin by reflex--silly, Havoc could heal himself just fine--and they listed to the sounds of battle below, to someone shouting "Get that fucking flag back!" as the Horde tore out of the base after, leaving their hold empty but for themselves.

Havoc and Quinntus looked at each other, unbelieving. "Do they realize that we--"

Havoc shook his head. No, the rest didn't realize that their healers held the flag, probably wouldn't until it was far too late to do anything about it. The blonde watched the gate to the roof, prepared to wait.

But Quinntus had another idea. "Come with me, there's a better place to hide than this."

 

Mor'shan Hold used to be a sawmill, and under the enormous sawblade there is a tiny space, out of sight, well-hidden. Everyone stayed on the roof; it was the first place the Alliance would look. But here? Quinntus had waited it out with a flag carrier here before. No one ever thought to come here. It got boring.

Quinntus looked up at Havoc, smiling and breathing hard after that battle. Havoc grinned back.

"Now that was some fun!"

Quinntus laughed and wrapped his arms around Havoc in a gleeful hug. Havoc hugged back, tilted the priest's chin up, and the laughter ended as Quinn wound his arms around the paladin's neck and kissed him. Havoc, his protector, his best friend, his lover, hidden under the Warsong Hold, stealing a kiss in secret.

Quinntus shivered and pulled back, resisting the stirring inside him. Havoc could get to him every time, knew how to use a secret glance or a smudging caress of his thumb or a kiss--Light, Havoc could kiss--

But Havoc's grin was lit up with a madness that signalled that one kiss wouldn't be enough--

And that was all the warning Quinn got before he was turned around and pressed against the wall, head tilted to let Havoc suck and bite at one ear. Quinn shivered even as the knight hiked up the skirts of his robe, reached around to unfasten his trousers. "What are you--"

"Shut up," Havoc muttered. "I'm fucking you."

"Here?" Quinntus yelped, and then moaned as Havoc freed his cock, stroked, fingers calloused and _other_ wringing a gasp and shudder.

The knight laughed softly as the priest writhed with it, thrusting. "You don't want to?"

Oh Light, he did. But--"We could get caught."

"Fast," Havoc whispered, twisting a little as he stroked. "Quiet. We have to be so quiet...but I'm fucking you, Quinn, unless you say no." Oh, damn. Havoc had been so timid about sex with another man, sex with him, his love for the priest in conflict with his admiration for women and an aversion to the mechanics of what went where. But with time, and patience, and slow slow courtship...

He would do it.

But only this way.

The priest's answer was to press back against the knight's crotch. Groaning, Havoc pushed him forward long enough to undo his armor's codpiece.

Quinntus had a hand around that glorious cock even as he fumbled in a belt pouch for the swiftthistle mixture. Oriseus had laughed in delight when Quinntus explained why he needed it: For Havoc Silvergrin was blessed by the Light, the most generously hung male Quinntus had ever seen. Quinntus let go long enough to scoop some of the lubricant in his fingers, slicking it over the head. He could do it by touch, had reached back to add some more swifthistle when it got too rough many times. Havoc moaned approvingly, and reached for more, the jar already held neatly behind Quinn's back.

Havoc slipped gel-chilled fingers between the cleft of the priest's buttocks, and Quinn arched his back and pushed against them. The knight sighed as his fingers slipped inside. "You want to."

"Light, yes." Quinn spread his feet apart, bent a little, and set the head of Havoc's cock where he needed it. He pressed back a little, and cursed. The angle was all wrong. Quinntus was too short to do it this way.

"Let me,"Havoc whispered, and seized him by the hips, lifting him off the ground. Quinn yelped and grabbed at a knothole in the wood, slipping two fingers through, and hissed as a splinter worked its way under the skin. He held fast, though, bracing against the wall with his knees...

Havoc tried to push. Quinntus blew his breath out--and his knees slid down the wall.

They could do it, if Havoc turned him back around. But--

On your knees," he said, setting him down.

"No, wait," Quinntus replied, and held up a feather.

Havoc chuckled and swept Quinntus' hair aside to kiss his neck.

"My clever priest," he murmured, and Quinntus spoke the spell that would make him hover in the air.

Oh, weightless. floating. Literally how it felt in his head, when Havoc kissed him, touched him, whispered promises and soft words that made him quiver and want. Even when he went over with a thread of doubt, a thread that snapped when Havoc reared up and crooned to him, doing it exactly right, rubbing him right there inside, listening to Quinntus whimper and groan and garble his words.

The priest wondered if Havoc smiled, or not, while he made his lover fly.

Havoc seized him by the hips again, pulling him down and on his cock, already pushing his way in.

Quinntus moaned. "So big."

"Quiet," Havoc warned. The priest bit his lip and went silent. Havoc pressed steadily, pausing if Quinntus tensed or wriggled, but kept on, kissing his way up the priest's neck. Quinntus relaxed, opening to let Havoc in, and the knight murmured in satisfaction as he slid inside.

It was still quiet out there, no nearby sounds of battle or even voices. Havoc raised Quinntus by the hips, pulled him down, and hissed. Quinntus bit down on a whimper. So full, Light, the way he needed it...

"Touch yourself," Havoc whispered. " _Belore_ , Quinn, it's--" Oh, he moved so slowly, so smoothly, bearing that flag and his hips just gliding up and back, so smooth but Quinntus needed it hard, fast, they had to do it fast someone might come, someone might decide to defend and come looking for them, the Alliance could come hunting their flag, there could be a Kaldorei standing there right now, they could be seen...

Quinntus wailed sharply and rubbed harder.

"Quiet," Havoc insisted, and clapped a hand over his mouth as he moved faster, ragged breaths blowing against Quinn's ear. The priest writhed. He wanted to moan, wanted to call out his lover's name, wanted to beg him to go harder, faster, but that hand over his mouth, commanding his silence...

Quinn whimpered, and Havoc nipped his ear with sharp teeth.

Still quiet, but for Havoc's breath in his ear, the slight jingling of all the metal he wore, Quinntus' own ragged breathing and his cock, oh Light Havoc's beautiful enormous cock, finally slamming hard and jolting the priest each time, every thrust another moan or whispered oath he had to swallow because someone might hear, they could be caught...

"I wonder, Quinn," Havoc whispered. "What do you look like right now?"

Quinntus sucked up a breath of shock.

"What would I see in your eyes...what if I could see your face...I want to know--"

One soft grunt from Havoc--He wants to know, he wants to see--and that sweet pressure building deep in his belly...oh, soon...Quinntus sucked up a sharp breath and stroked faster, squeezed harder, ignoring the throb in his left hand from the splinters, jerking his hips and thrusting back urgently--

\-- _He wants to know, he wants to see_ \--

The bell signaling the flag's return sounded.

"FUCK!" They shouted it in unison, breaking apart and dressing on the run to capture.

 

"As soon as we're out," Havoc promised amid congratulations.

"If you value your life," Quinntus growled, aching. Just one minute more, half a minute. All they needed...

The flag room was deserted again. Havoc stole a kiss, and tugged on his hand, already running to get that last capture and get the fel out of Warsong Gulch, to somewhere they didn't have to be quiet.

To somewhere Havoc could look at his face.


End file.
